Maybe Always
by Moonrays and fridays
Summary: He likes to think he knows everything there is to know about Samantha Carter, except who she actually is...JSPlease FB!


**Maybe always**

Sometimes, when he's sitting on his dock, alone but for the fish that don't exist and the mosquitoes he wishes didn't; he thinks of her. Sometimes he sees her smile, and then all the images hit him at once, and he likes to think he knows all there is to know about her.

When he has nothing else to do but cast for the fish that isn't so much elusive as none existent, he counts her smiles. One when she's trying to hide it, one when she's made a break through like the genius she is, one when she's angry and there's nothing else to do, one that she forces through the tears she doesn't want him to see. And one that he likes to think is all his. One that's worth Hammond's reprimands, or Teal'c's questioning eyebrow, or Daniel's sigh at the joke that was for her benefit.

Yes, sometimes he thinks he knows Samantha Carter. He knows her determination, her strength. He's experienced her loyalty and optimism first hand. He's felt her excitement at a new discovery, or science related adventure, and feels privileged to consider himself a recipient of her friendship; however diluted their version may be.

Sometimes he likes to think she's all his, and maybe in a sad defeated sort of way, she is. He knows her in way that no other man could; he's seen her at her worst, her best, her brightest. He's seen that mole, if only when bandaging a wound. He knows she grits her teeth when she's playing the part of the good major instead of the enraged woman she's not allowed to be. He knows she curls her fist under her chin when she sleeps, she will only eat blue jello, and that she knows when he watches her, and doesn't mind. It's an agreement they have.

They ignore the fact that "Never leave a man behind" has more meaning for them. It's not that they won't leave the other behind, it's that they can't. And sometimes that's more scary than all the crap they deal with on a regular basis.

Yes, he likes to think he knows Samantha Carter pretty well. He knows she likes her coffee black with sugar, that she drinks herbal tea when she's stressed, that she's been writing her book on wormhole physics for damn near five years, even though she'll never get published. Credit doesn't matter to her...Except possibly where McKay's concerned.

You chuckle quietly to yourself, you found that funny, you admit. That was the closest yourMajor came to sulking, and sometimes you like to be reminded that she's still human. Not that you haven't seen her that way too. You've seen her hurting more than you can imagine, and still giving you that smile that says "it's okay", even when she knows you won't believe it. Sometimes you think you relate without words simply because it stops her from saying "Sir", and you from referring to her with an indifferent title that's become an almost affectionate nickname for you.

Sometimes, though, when he's sitting under the stars on another planet, by a campfire reminiscent of Earth, he realises he knows very little about Samantha Carter. He can imagine her being a person, but somehow she's just too good for that.  
He can almost see her, roaring down the highway into anonymity, on her Indian, as opposed to his Harley, the leather jacket that he's never really noticed is quite similar to his own zipped up, protecting her from the world.  
Sometimes he likes to imagine her sitting at home on her couch, with thick woolly socks and sweats on, eating Chinese food in front of the TV; watching a bad movie for once instead of some science documentary. He wants to know what her favourite book is, and what she was like growing up, who her first kiss was (although maybe not in too much detail) why she dreamed of being an astronaut.

He wants to know why "Singing in the Rain" is a classic, and if she missed him when he was stuck with Maybourne.

For once he wants to see her lose it, and see the real her struggle past the military and win. He wants to see the passion of Thera in her eyes every now and then, instead of the Good Major Doctor.  
He wants to know how bad her hangovers are, if she wakes up with only the tufts of her hair appearing from the Duvet like she does in her sleeping bag off world.

Sometimes he can see her as a real person. He can see her as a sweet person who would be wonderful to fall asleep with in front of the TV on a Saturday night, and lay in with on a Sunday morning.

He wonders if he keeps asking her, if she'll ever come fishing.

* * *

Sometimes she thinks of him.

Sometimes, when she's recalibrating a device the word "Doohickey" will suddenly float into her brain, and the part of her that's not a Major in the Us Air force, and is simply a woman, really wants him to come into her lab and bug her. To ask her questions he doesn't want answers to, and to smile in that way he does that makes her know he's up to something, and yet still intrigued, and wants him to let her in on the secret.

She doesn't doubt that she knows him. That she knows his bravery is understated, his faith in her is immutable, and he'll say "what" just to pretend he doesn't know what's going on.  
Sometimes, when she's zoned out after spending too many hours on her laptop, finishing the novel that no one will see, she counts his voice tones. One when he's hurt and doesn't want her to fuss, one when he's being obnoxious, one when he's nervous and hiding behind being obnoxious, one when he's pissed off, one when he's pretending to be pissed off. That softened expression when he's saying something profound, the self deprecating one when he's trying to hide whatever he's just said.

And the one that sticks in her mind the most, the voice he uses when she's dying, or she's hurt, or she just escaped again. She calls that "The Goodbye" voice, and it's the one she hears in the middle of the night when she wakes up in the infirmary and can't see him. She can hear him and feel his presence, and she knows it's been a near miss with the way he says her name.

Sometimes she likes to think she knows Jack O'Neill. Really knows him. She knows how he got that scar on his eyebrow, and how many times his knee has been sprained. She knows he likes the red type of Jello, and any type of cake, and that Homer Simpson is his God.

She's seen him steal, she's heard him lie, and she's watched him time and again as he lays down his life almost too willingly for what they've fought for, because he forgets to take her feelings about his death into account, just as he's supposed to. It still hurts though, every time he risks his life he gives her a little nod, just to say "I know i'm hurting you, but this is what i do"

And she knows he does it well.

But sometimes, when she's at home, just being her instead of the brilliant Major Doctor, watching repeats of The Wizard of Oz, she wonders if she knows him at all. She doesn't know where he goes when he pushes them all out, she hasn't seen the dock he sits on, she doesn't know about Charlie. She wonders if he wants to talk to her about books and life. If he wants to sit in a movie theatre with his arm round the back of her chair. If maybe, one day, she'll wake up before he does, and it wont be in the infirmary, it'll just be home.

She likes to think one day the tension will be gone, the uneasiness, and it will just leave that delicious desire that reaches all the way to her fingertips and makes her toes curl when he smiles at her.  
And maybe, if they're both still alive and they defeat the enemy, and if they haven't met other people or drifted apart, they might settle down on the sofa to watch a documentry, or a film he'd never expect her to like.

Sometimes she thinks she knows nothing about him, she doesn't know if he's an adrenaline junkie like her, if he can cook anything other than ice, what music he likes, what he plans for his future. the places he's been and the places he dreams of going. It's easy to forget that Earth can be a pretty magical place too sometimes.  
And maybe he'll tell her about the Iraqi prison, and why they never leave anyone behind. It's easy to forget earth can be a pretty dangerous place.

And you want to do more than just smile at his jokes. You want to laugh, sometimes you think you could bust something keeping it all in; your bottom lip is marred from the bites he makes you inflict upon yourself. The spunkier part of you thinks maybe he'll do that in other ways someday, but you'd settle for laughter. For crying with tears, for letting him know you appreciate his support, and his attention...and a small part of you wants to be able to kiss him and tell him to shut up.

She sits at her desk and wonders what his favourite flavour ice cream is, if he has siblings, if she'll ever truly know him. More than ever she wants to be able to say his first name when he isn't leaving, and have him say hers when she's not dying. Sometimes she just wants to be normal...and then she remembers what's at stake.

She wonders if he'll ever stop asking her to go fishing. That thought scares her more than anything.

But she can't ask for more. She can wonder. Did he miss her when she was stranded? Did he get the way he does when Daniel's missing, or when a problem's unsolvable? She thinks he does.

And she can live with the smiles, for now they're enough.


End file.
